A/N: I'm a psycho path loon. It is final.

Disclaimer: Please suck my body dry of all it's blood and feet it to a humpback whale. I am insane. I do not own Ammy-Sae Eyes-Kae.

"Sammy! What is up with this cut? It is making everything so much harder!" Casey laughed. He was attempting to dy my hair back.

"You mean this freak-mess?" I lifted some of my hair. "God. I hate it too."

Marissa wasn't here today. Even though it was just the beginning of summer, Marissa was in a writing club, for her extracurricular.

"If you don't like it, why did you get it cut that way?" Casey asked, pulling my hair back into his hand and letting it fall back into my face. I looked forward at my reflection. "Because. Cam."

"He made you cut your hair?"

"Well, not exactly..." I started.

"What happened, then?" he asked, running a hand through my hair. I could tell he had given up on the dy and now he was just playing with it.

"Cam asked me over. We watched movies and drank. A lot. Then a bunch of other guys showed up and they were weird and creepy so I freaked out but they forced me one last drink and I passed out. I woke up to blood everywhere, and my hair everywhere. The police were surrounding me. They didn't believe me when I said I was pretty sure, no, positive I had been raped but what the fuck. Even the blood or my hair everywhere didn't prove anything. I still can't believe they chopped my hair off."

"So you care more about your hair than virginity?"

"No! I just... I was especially mad about my hair because it made me feel so so so vulnerable. Like, if they can cut my hair without me saying so, they can do anything at all to me. Right?"

"So what happened with the police?"

"Cam's apartment was searched and so was mine, and they found everything in Cam's apartment and nothing at all in our's, but since Dad already had a drug record, they still threatened to have me arrested. But Dad was friends with cop and he let us off easy. We were forced to move, especially since Cam was till pyscho for me. He still texts me the creepiest things ever."

"Like what?" Casey asked.

"Like... I dunno. Like 'Did you use my presents yet?' or 'I'm thinking of you Sam. All the time' or 'We'll be back together soon I promise'." I shivered. "I don't want to ever see him again. He thinks it's okay to use and then I'll be okay with it?"

Casey rested his chin on the top of my head and looked at me through the mirror. "You look great with your makeup off, Sammy. You looked fine with it, too, but you look better without it."

I turned around in my swivel chair. I had a MGMT t-shirt on and simple black shorts.

"What about my clothes?" I asked. "Do you like it better with those jeans or these shorts?"

He checked me out for a minute then said, "I honestly think your jeans looked good on you. Well, you look fine with it all, but don't wear that purple tank top unless you're using it to bed."

"Why?" I asked. "Why are you even thinking about what I wear to bed?" I teased.

He blushed a little. "I mean, don't wear it like you mean to. It makes you look like a, um, a freak show."

Freak show = Prostitute.

Anyway, I stood up and Casey said to me a litte awkwardly, "Soo. Um. Did Cam and his friends ever caught for raping you?"

"Stop saying it like that." I sighed. "I hate that word. Instead, call it... 'invading my personal space'."

"Your very very very personal 'space'?" Casey put little bunny-ear quotations around 'space' with his fingers.

I swatted his shoulder. "Be queit."

"You're not pregnant are you?"

I laughed. "I am. Totally." very sarcastically. "Okay, so do you wanna get my hair dyed or not?"

Casey shrugged. "I kinda think you look cute with that color. It suits you."

I brightened. "Really?" I smiled.

"Yeah. Very much." he put his hands on my waist. "Isn't this weird? My second day of seeing you in three years and this is where we are."

"You mean, your second day of seeing me after three years and your all over me?"

He laughed and very randomly, he pulled me into a kiss. I loved that kiss. For once, the guy wasn't stoned when he was kissing me. Or me. Stupid Cam. It wasn't like I was addicted or like I was really into drugs... I only smoked pot, like a few couple times and I was never addicted. Cam mostly made me smoke marijuana since pot was expensive and he didn't want to waste it on someone who didn't even like it. Marijuana wasn't very addicting, and it wasn't even that bad for you, as much as pot and crack and heroin, so I smoked that a few times a month anyway. Like maybe twice or thrice a month. But that was it. I was so weird there. What was I thinking? I had secretly always hated it all, but I had thought Cam had treated me so right. I was wrong. Cam was nothing like Casey. I wondered how I could have gone three years without him.

Casey's kiss was amazing. I could actually feel his passion. Instead of being a high freak, he was actually still on this world and was kissing me because he liked me. I think. He did like me, right?

His hands ran through my hair as he kissed me. We finally seperated and he stepped back. "You know. I don't even mind the cut that much."

I touched my lips, still feeling the electric crazy tingle of his lips. "Why?"

"It's fun to play with. To touch and hold. It's cute." he winked.

"That's what she said," I joked.

He rolled his eyes and laughed. "Ha-ha. Very funny." then he pulled me into a backward-hug (my back was against his chest and his arms were wrapped around me from my bag to my front) [A/N: love those types of hugs! Whenever my bf hugs me like that I just wanna stay there forever!].

His hands sifted through my hair. One finger twirled a strand on hair. "I like it a lot."

I smiled. "And I like you a lot."

Back when I was thirteen, I would have never had said that to him at all, ever.

Maybe I had changed.

A/N: The reason for this story is only because I've smoked Marijuana and honestly, it sucks. Some gigs go out of control, and I guess drugs, or as my friend would like to say, durrrrgs are not good. Even though marijuana isn't THAAAT bad for you, it's still bad. Our school has this "Get High" day that the students made up and we all come to school high. It's weird, and I'm never going to do it again. The last think I need is a drug problem. I've already been branded a "whore" (because of my picture, maybe? Or that's what people think) I don't need "druggie" or "stoner" added to the list, thankyouverymuch. ;D